Judging Admissions | A Memoir Post

It’s been a while since I’ve done a memoir post and to be completely honest it’s been a while since I’ve even written one.  The other day I felt inspired though so here you go, any constructive criticism would be welcomed, leave comments or send me messages on social media (links to the right —>)

I’ve only told my husband and my parents.  I feel like I need to tell other people but just as I’m about to the frog in my throat takes over my voice and all that comes out are unintelligible croaks that make me look like a fool.  It seems ridiculous to not simply utter the words, I have an eating disorder.  Those five simple words seem like poison in my mouth.

I feel like I need to tell my boss, not Steve, I don’t think he would care or he would be useless.  But someone at work needs to be aware.  Tina would probably be the best option, she is the general manager.  My nerves, or what once was them, seemed to be disintegrating by the second!  I pick up the phone and dial Tina’s office and request a meeting with her to explain the situation.  She hesitantly agrees to the meeting.

The day of the meeting comes quickly.  Too quickly for my liking.  I feel like I haven’t had enough time to prepare.  I’m afraid that the frog in my throat is going to stop me from discussing this, yet again.  But there is no backing down now.  The meeting is in an hour.  I want to cancel.  I can’t.  I just can’t, I keep telling myself.

The walk to the end of the hallway seems like miles instead of the two hundred feet that it is.  As I walk into Tina’s office my heart is pounding so hard that I can’t hear myself think.  It feel as if it is going to jump out of my ears!  I sit down, holding back tears, wondering how long I’ll be able to keep them at bay.  As Tina welcomes me to sit down and asks what she can do for me I stumble over my words.  “I just… I thought… Someone here needed… should know…” insert big long pause here.  I have to say it I sternly tell myself.  “I have… an…” The quizzical look on her face told me I just needed to spit it out. “eating disorder!” I finally spew out, almost too loudly.

The feeling of shame washes over me, a drowning feeling.  I sit, staring at my hands, thumbs twiddling back and forth trying to occupy some sort of business for my brain to focus on waiting for the judgment to come.  “Are you ok? Are you getting help?  What can I do to help you?”  Were the next words out of Tina’s mouth.  That feeling of shame that I had moments before were shocked into relief.  Suddenly my fears of talking about it seemed so ridiculous and over dramatic.  I could hear the concern in her voice.

Over the next hour Tina and I discussed how I was getting help, what I was doing and how the Nonantum could help (which in reality they couldn’t, but more on that later).  She offered, among other things, for me to ride horses with her daughter, saying it had helped her in the past.  I stood up to leave feeling 20 pounds lighter (in a sense), and just as I opened the door to leave Tina said a few more words of encouragement.  I walked out the door and back down the hallway passing the kitchen where my shift wouldn’t start for another two hours, quickly crossed the street and hopped into my car.  I shut the door and uncontrollable horrendous sounds started coming from me.  The sobs continued for a full 30 minutes before I calmed myself down enough to think.  Somehow as the door closed I knew it was a door closing on my past life.  I had just over an hour ago admitted to someone, outside of my family, that I had a serious problem.  Exhausted, feeling like I’d run a marathon, I drove the couple blocks to the beach and allowed the sound of the waves crashing against the nearby rocks to slowly take me away.

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